Silence
by pseudonymical
Summary: Grell ends up giving William the silent treatment-which William doesn't enjoy quite as much as you'd think.


AN: OH MAH GOD, NESSA ACTUALLY WROTE SOMETHING? (I'm so sorry. I'm busy with school, and honestly, I'm more focused on drawing than fanfics.)  
>Anyway, this is part one of a request from Gothic-Romantic99. (No, this does not have two chapters. I mean it's one fic out of two.)<br>She wanted Grelliam fluff or Grellbastian fluff, I clearly picked Grelliam but tried to work in some Sebastian. And hocrap I can't write him worth shit. You know what THAT means, though, it means I'll be writing Cielbastian sometime soon so I can get better. XD Anyway, this isn't really fluff, so I'm doing this, and then I'm going to write some ACTUAL fluff soon.  
>FYI, I've also started a "Pool game" fic, and it's damn hard to use pool terms over and over again without reusing them too often. I've also started a fic featuring Grell and Ronald because six people have asked me for them. *shrug* Just friends, though, I can't write that pairing morally. XD<br>Read and review, hope you enjoy, I worked hard, blah, you get it.  
>Also, you notice I'm trying out a new tense? Third-person present instead of past.<br>(And, proofreading this, apparently I really liked the word "damn" today. XD)

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><p>William is not pleased.<p>

Grell would argue that he's _never_ pleased, but at the moment, he's past that to honestly pissed off. He doesn't show it-it's not professional-but something is bothering him.

Of course, that something is Grell. Whenever William's angry, it's usually Grell's fault in some way. This time, it's that _demon_. That be-damned, benighted _demon_. Grell is always throwing himself at that _demon_, and William simply cannot take it any more. Doesn't that moronic redhead know that it hurts? He does it right in front of William, too, but he never seems to see how incensed it makes his supervisor. The _demon_ sees it-William knows, he can tell. Once, when Grell was in full on sexual assault mode, their eyes met, his and that _demon's_, and William could swear he saw the corner of his mouth turn up as the Phantomhive butler read his expression. Sebastian Michaelis. Damn him, damn him a thousand times. And Grell too, the prick-

"Bit cheesed, are we, Will dear?" Grell's voice makes him jump at his desk, shooting upright and whipping around. "You look as though you're about to murder your poor, unsuspecting paperwork." At Grell's words, William realizes that he _has_ been glaring at his work.

"Do not be ridiculous, Sutcliff. The only one around here likely to murder anything is _you_." Grell exposes shark's teeth in a glistening smile at his words.

"Oh, Will, I just love it when you're cold to me." He sits on the corner of William's desk. The brunette glares and shoves him off. The sight of the red hair dropping off the edge of the desk is one of the more satisfying things William's seen all day.

"_Ow_!" Grell exclaims, popping back up. "Will, you berk-" William gives him a look. He is not in the mood to deal with any of his subordinate's idiocy. Not today. Grell falls silent for a moment under William's glare. Usually, after being an asshole, William at least has the grace to not look like such a- "You know, you can be a real bastard sometimes." He says. It's not like Grell's usual insults. His voice is cold and hard, and he looks like he absolutely means it. For all that Grell is hard to take seriously, William can tell that he is sincere. With a whirl of brightly colored hair, Grell turns on his heel and vanishes out the door of the office.

_You __went __a __bit __far, __pushing __him __off __the __desk __when __he __didn't __even __do __anything_. A nasty little voice in his head says tauntingly. _ He __was __just __being __normal __Grell-at __least __he __didn't __mess __up __any __of __your __paperwork, __and __he __didn't __even __try __to __upset __you, __really. __Maybe __he __was __being __a __little __annoying, __but __isn't __he __always?_ William growls to himself and ignores the thought. Grell thinks _he_ can be a bastard? _He's_ not the one attempting to initiate coitus with a spawn of hell right in front of his boss. _He_ doesn't flirt with everything that walks by his desk.

_ That stupid, self-centered, son of a-_

_ Bit __cheesed, __are __we?_ Grell's voice echoes in his head. He breathes out, a quick huff of irritation, and bends over to attack his paperwork again.

When he makes his rounds through the office-he's on a very specific schedule for those, three very specific schedules, actually, so that they don't know when he's coming on any given day-the room falls eerily, oddly silent.

Which makes it all the more apparent that Grell is incredibly angry at his supervisor. When William walks by his desk, the redhead refuses to look at him, instead staring pointedly at his papers-which are no more complete than usual. Alan wrinkles his brow worriedly and pushes a note, penned in a clear hand, towards William when he passes. "_Is __Grell __OK?__ He's __been __kind __of __quiet...__Did __something __happen?"_ William eyes him sternly and drops the slip of paper into the trash. It's none of his business. The young man flushes and glances down, embarrassed. Eric shoots his boss a dirty look.

"Get to work, all of you." William says as he walks out the door. Behind him, he hears Eric say something rude about him, probably in an attempt to make Alan laugh. Ron is the only one who does, though. Grell says something in his smooth voice that William can't make out.

That bothers him, unexpectedly.

The next day they have a Reaping, which means Grell can no longer ignore William. William's relieved-it was beginning to get uncomfortable- until it becomes obvious that while Grell will now deign to talk to him, he will do so in only the most minimal manner, and what he does say will be in that ice-cold, angry voice.

William never thought he'd be _wishing_ that Grell would talk to him. It's odd-his behavior of the day before wasn't too abnormal for him-bit shorter-tempered, but not abnormal. And yet Grell seems to be taking this so much more personally than usual. What's different about this time?

It's ironic, really. William was mad at Grell-justifiably, dammit-but now, it's the reverse, even though the dark-haired Reaper hasn't really done anything outside the ordinary.

"It's five minutes until death. The subject should arrive in two minutes and-" He checks his watch, "-thirteen seconds. Death will be carriage accident."

Grell's response is a curt nod.

_Speak __to __me, __damn __you_.

Almost an entire week passes, and Grell is still giving William the silent treatment. Five. Whole. Days. No matter how William always complains about Grell, now that he's barely interacting with him, he _misses_ him. _Absence __makes __the __heart __grow __fonder!_ Grell's voice chimes happily in his head. William has grown to hate that proverb. He's been making excuses to be around Grell, hoping he'll crack the invisible wall of silence. In turn, his partner has been avoiding him.

William doesn't know that Grell is only keeping it up now for the principle. He doesn't know that Grell wasn't even that angry until William didn't apologize. Doesn't know that a simple word would resolve the entire situation, because Grell is tired of being quasi-abused. Hell, even a hug might do. All he can see is that infuriating Sutcliff, acting up again, being an ass.

"There." He points. "Try not to mutilate this one's record, Grell." The other Reaper jerks at William's slip on his name. He's been on William's mind entirely too much for the man to call him by his surname as usual.

"Fine." The redhead can't help but notice, though, that the words are still a cooly-delivered criticism. Their target wanders into the alleyway where he will, unbeknownst to him, meet his end. They watch from above as he stumbles, intoxicated, into a trashcan, falls. He picks himself up and moves further into the thin space, mumbling unintelligible nothings. What he does not see, in his alcohol-induced haze, is the hulking form of a man sneaking up behind him. According to their dossier, a serial killer-which means that, to make William's evening all the more hellish, out of the shadows on the roof on the other side of the alley steps his least favorite person at the moment.

Sebastian Michaelis.

Grell brightens instantly, causing a hot surge of anger to shoot straight to William's head.

"Bassy!" The redhead cries, leaping across the strip of open air that separates the buildings. For a moment, William sees trepidation cross the demon's face, and then a smooth sidestep right before Grell makes impact sends the rehead to the ground. He lands awkwardly, but shoots back up with a bounce, throwing himself into the Phantomhive butler's arms. "I'm so glad to see you~"

William doesn't see the glance Grell throws back at him-his eyes are focused intensely on the murder unfolding below, anything to avoid the scene across from him.

"Grell Sutcliff." The demon's voice is lovely, though emotionless. He detaches himself from the grip of the embracing Reaper. "Fancy meeting you here." Sarcasm is apparent in the velvet intonation of his words.

"Isn't it wonderful, Bassy?" Grell sounds genuinely excited. William watches the thug in the alleyway stab the drunk repeatedly, imagining something equally violent happening to that filthy demon. "I mean, I never get to see you anymore!" There is a pause, during which he glances at William again. "I see you didn't drag along that little brat."

William can almost _hear_ the demon smirk. "The young master did not wish to accompany me. He had a previous engagement." The drunk expires, with a hideous cry. William's imaginings fail to occupy him.

"Sutcliff! Get to work!" He says. If Grell isn't _talking_ to that demon... Grell shoots him a glare and says again,

"Fine." The demon arches an eyebrow as the redhead jumps down into the alleyway towards the pair.

"Trouble in paradise?" He says with a wicked smile.

"I believe instead of attempting to needle me, you should be apprehending the criminal." William replies, keeping his face utterly devoid of emotion.

"I have no need to do that yet. The young master will of course be here for the 'big reveal' as they say. I am merely discovering the identity of the culprit." The demon's lazy words only serve to fuel the anger burning in William's chest.

"Then you may leave." He says, perhaps a bit more curtly than usual-although he's never made it a point to be polite to the devil's children.

"Oh, but watching a Reaper work is such an... interesting experience."

Demons love to cause trouble. William learned that in the Academy.

He _hates_ demons.

This one in particular.

Grell _might_ have something to do with that. Below, he fends off the cinematic record, probably taking out his frustrations on the drunk's life. Hacking and whirling with his scythe as the dark ribbon comes at him from multiple sides, he's undeniably captivating, an intensely concentrated expression on his face. William patently ignores the leering butler to his left, though remaining on alert-demons are so unpredictable. His instincts are telling him to attack it, as is his job, but...that would make Grell even angrier... and as much as he hates to admit it, he would really rather that not happen. Anyway, he's fairly sure there would be..._complications_ with that Phantomhive boy if he were to perform pest control.

"In any case, he's only lucky you keep rescuing him-I almost had him that once." The demon says absently, watching the battle below, although William can tell he's as on high alert as well. "The Young Master didn't have me go after you two after you dragged him off-again, lucky for you." William feels a surge of anger, sitting there, that this vermin thinks to beat him so easily.

He's a Reaper.

He's not a child's toy.

Unlike _some_.

He's killed demons before-he can do it again. "Mm..." The demon sighs. "The damsel in distress. It seems we've both got one. At least I'm _obligated_ to obey and take care of mine-You, well, you're just...shall we say, a willing slave?" William's hand clenches on the handle of his scythe. _He's __trying __to __provoke __you...__Keep __calm_... "You're in _love_... Is there anything more pathetic than a love-struck fool?" In his silent rage, William fails to notice that the noise from the alley beneath has stopped. The Reaping is over.

Sebastian notices it.

He has no interest in having to fend off Grell's advances again. And he's done well enough here-the dark-haired Reaper is practically shivering in anger.

As the demon vanishes into the night, William lets the anger go. His scythe swings into the roof of the building, making a satisfying cracking noise. _There's __another __incident __report_. It's not Grell's fault for once. They'll have to fix the roof. He only hopes he hasn't woken someone up, although how they could have slept through the drunk's death screams is beyond him. William's disappointed in his lack of control, but somehow, it rather feels good to destroy the stone-

"And you complain about _me_ destroying things." William jumps as Grell's voice breaks his reverie. The cold, angry voice is gone. Was just slicing up some human's life enough to get that odd irritation out of his system? Why didn't that work five days ago, when the bloody idiot went out Reaping with Ronald? William almost wants to apologize, but he swallows it. He will never say 'I'm sorry' to this man.

"It was self-defense. The demon-" William lies. He wonders again what brought about this change in manner.

Grell rolls his eyes.

He knows exactly what happened with Sebastian, and it wasn't self-defense.

He heard every word, actually.

_"You're __in _love_...__Is __there __anything __more __pathetic __than __a __love-struck __fool?"_

That's good enough for an apology.

Better, in fact.


End file.
